


Lost In The Snow

by EricaSTG



Category: The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Begins Pre-canon timeline, Blood, Chronic Pain, Dysphoria, F/F, Found Family, Heavy Canon Divergence, Mystery, Permanent Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Trans Female Character, Transitioning, Transphobia, Violence, canon characters dont show up until later, relationships come later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:14:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28603506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EricaSTG/pseuds/EricaSTG
Summary: Snowstorms in Alaska are dangerous things. They can lead to severe injuries and death. Many people disappear into the swirling winter storms every year and are never found.But what happens when you reappear.
Kudos: 2





	Lost In The Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here we go again.
> 
> It's been almost 5 years since the last time I wrote anything, and even longer than that for something creative rather than an essay.  
> The Owl House and it's fanfiction has sucked me into this fandom HARD though and has filled me with inspiration that i haven't felt in such a long time. I actually think that this fandom has given me more inspiration to write than any other fandom ever has. Particularly these creators:  
> -[Evilsnotbag](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilsnotbag/profile) with her [Lunar Eclipse AU](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1765585).  
> -[Rohad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rohad/profile) with their [Moonlit Masquerade Series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935769) and ["Immortal Devotion"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27730840/chapters/67873657) which was written collaboratively with [Tripower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tripower/profile)  
> -[EleenaDume](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EleenaDume/profile) with ["Locked Out"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25830331/chapters/62750935)  
> -And [Simply_Lumity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simply_Lumity/profile) with ["Music Under The Spotlight"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24940906/chapters/60365791>)  
> I have not marked any of these as inspiration in the associations tab however since none of them directly inspired this work. They inspired me to write again in general.
> 
> Fair warning though, this fic will be very angsty at first. The main character will suffer a very severe injury that is necessary for the way i want things to go. And there will be depictions of transphobia, both from people in the character's life and from the government of the boiling isles. Unfortunately it seems to me with the Isles government not really being the most accepting to even pretty tame things like food based fanfiction, that being trans wouldn't be governmentally accepted to say the least.
> 
> I hope everyone who reads enjoys though.

Uneven, distressed breathing and the crunch of footsteps in the snow are the only things that she can hear over the loud ringing in her ears. The world around her had long ago faded and melded into a blur of white with streaks of black and blobs of green as she rushed through the frozen forest.

Logically, she knew what the streaks and blobs were. They were the black cracks of the bark on the birch trees and the full bodies of the spruce trees around her. Distorted by the wetness welling up in her eyes, however still recognizable. But in her mind, every black streak was a crack in her world, and every green blob was the coat of her father

Her father who had just a short time ago felt so warm and welcoming.

Her father who had just a short time ago felt like the foundation of everything good in the world.

Her father whose expression had shifted from happiness and contentment to shock and horror with just a few words.

Her father who had just looked at his daughter as if she were some monster that stood before him.

Her father who had just done the one thing that his daughter had feared he would do.

The coat of her father who had just rejected that he had a daughter.

After what seemed like hours, the crunching of her boots in the snow slowly lost its former speed and steadiness. The tracks left behind slowly losing their perfectly straight and parallel tracks between the trees. The tracks mirroring the increase in the amount of tears slowly dripping down her face.

Her unsteadiness was caused as much by the tears obscuring her vision as the increasingly difficult to hold in emotions that swirled in her head. Eventually, they kept her from going any further. And when this happened she tripped, falling to her knees and up to her hips in the snow.

The tears are flowing freely now, and aren't slowed by any appreciable amount when she closed her eyes. The ringing in her ears rising with the falling tears to a point that nothing around her could be heard. Not even her own sobbing.

As she cried, the air around her began to fill with slowly falling snow. The flakes drifted in the gentle breeze that had persisted since the morning, causing a sharp chill in her throat with each breath.

A light dusting formed on her hair and coat as the sobs continued.

Time passed as she cried, the falling snow intensified with the thickening clouds. The sky going from a bright white with patches of blue to a light grey that faded into the haze of falling snow as the clouds began to lay down yet another blanket of fluffy frozen water.

Slow as the gathering clouds, the sobbing faded to sniffling, and eventually stopped. Pink tracks lined her face as she opened her eyes and looked up and out the top of the clearing she was in. Tall craggy mountains stretched into the sky around her. The tips that had been visible before she ran off now hidden in the fluffy clouds that are barely distinguishable through the swirling snow around her. Their disappearance made even more effective by the dark that encroached with the falling of the night.

Her breathing slowly evened as the ringing in her ears subsided and more distinct feelings came back to her.

The tightness in her chest from crying. The cold seeping into her legs from being buried in snow. The pressure on her shoulders from her backpack. The chill in her fingertips. And the weight on her hip were the most distinct things she could feel.

At least, besides the sharp pain in her heart.

As she tore her view from the sky, her gloved hands lifted from their places lying in the snow. Grabbing ahold of the axe and holding it in front of herself, she looked down at it.

Lying parallel with the ground in her hands, the axe felt like the weight of the world. It was a gift from her father. One that was an important part of her family's traditions regarding her journey to adulthood. And as she stared at it, a memory began to surface.

* * *

_ Long after the party guests had left, only her and her father were left sitting around the remnants of a fire, now just a pile of coals glowing a gentle red. Her father broke the long silence which had persisted since her mother had gone inside with one word. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Son," he said as he brought his gaze down from the sky at his daughter across the fire. _

_ With practiced ease, she carefully hid her cringe at the title that she hated so much, and felt like sandpaper on her very soul when it was uttered. Hiding the reaction was made easier by the shadow her face was cast in, before bringing her eyes up to him from the fire pit. _

_ “It is tradition in our family that when a child turns 12, they are given a special gift.” His face, semi-visible in the dim twilight of an Alaskan late-summer night, was fixated on her form from across the fire as he spoke and reached down to the ground beside his chair. When he straightened again, he had retrieved a thick cloth bundle, secured by a wrapped cord of leather, from the ground.  _

_ “These gifts are given as a symbol that you are growing up,” he said as he held the bundle in both of his hands, similar to how she held the axe in the present. “It is a symbol of trust. That you are old enough to not need me or your mother to always be around to protect you now.” _

_ He stood, before motioning for his daughter to do the same. When she did, she mirrored her father’s subsequent approach to the edge of the fire pit. With both of them now being bathed in the dim orange light emitted from the crackling coals. He looked his daughter directly in the eyes as the shadows and firelight danced across their skin. _

_ She met his gaze before he slowly lifted the bundle to hold it out to her. She noted the solid heft to it as she took hold of the bundle and its weight was transferred from her father's hands to her. A core was able to be felt through the thick wrapping that hid its form as she brought it close. She carefully pulled on an end of the leather string securing the bundle, causing the cloth to loosen as the leather string came untied and fell away. With the cloth now free, she gently unfolded the covering to reveal a beautiful, handcrafted axe. _ _  
  
_

_ Dark brown wood made up a handle that stretched from a leather wrapped grip held in place with brass rings to a damascus steel head engraved with angular norse knotwork on the cheek. The knotwork fading as the head narrowed towards the blade like the knotwork had been engraved before it had been sharpened. The head's heel angled slightly in from the toe with a smooth curve, leading to a gentle exponential curve from the heel to the base that had a weave of leather strips crossing over the cheeks and meeting on top and below the head for an extra secure connection. As she examined the fine craftsmanship, she noticed a symbol on the butt of the head. _

_ She immediately recognized the Vegvisir engraved into the head of the axe. The yellow flash of the gold inlaid rune of protection standing out against the swirling greys of the head’s material.  _

_ “Thank you dad. It’s beautiful,” she said as she lifted up the axe and watched the reflections of glowing coals on the gleaming blade. Its ancient purpose to keep you on your path in life, and help you find it again if you ever lose your way coming to mind. _

_ “You’re welcome, my son," he told her as he rounded the fire pit to stand by her, and put his hand on her shoulder. “Now, go on inside, it's getting late, and you need to sleep. I’ll put out the fire.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ She nodded and let the axe slide down in her hand until she was holding it where the handle meets the head, before turning and disappearing into the darkness towards the faint lights peeking out of the windows of the house in the distance. _

* * *

The flashback faded with her hands gripping the handle of the axe almost painfully tight. Anger at her father rose in her and her arm pulled back, tension in her muscles building in preparation to throw the weapon off into the treeline.

She wanted to do something to hurt her father as much as he had hurt her. Throwing away such a powerful symbol of his trust and faith in her would certainly do that. To just discard something with that much meaning and personal attachment would cut a deep wound.

But a split second before she carried out the act, the overwhelming wave of anger washed away to leave the dull ache of pain. This gift, while from her father who had just wounded her deeply, was not a symbol of what he thought of her. It was a symbol of the love that he felt for her.

As much as he had hurt her, she still deeply loved him and the axe was proof that he at least had too.

She couldn’t throw that away. 

Not to just strike back at him. 

Not just to hurt him.

She still loved him too much to simply hurt him like he had hurt her. She wouldn’t let herself do that. She wouldn’t let herself strike back. She wouldn’t let them fall into a cycle.

She lowered her hand. And with practiced ease the axe lowered itself in her grasp, its handle slipped into the waiting ring at her side. The tension in her muscles beginning to relax with the return of the axe to its place on her hip.

A sound in the distance made the tension return just as soon as it had left. A faint sound from far off in the trees, and the last sound she wanted to hear at the moment.

Her father was calling out for her.

She sighed to herself. Despite how much she didn’t want to do this, she needed to face him again. To show that this really wasn’t something that he could simply say no to. That this isn’t something that he can control and that this is actually who she is.

That she is his daughter, not his son.

So, after a few moments to collect her thoughts for the coming encounter, she rose. Her father's voice calling out her given name all the while, and slowly getting louder as he followed her tracks towards her.

Above her though, the clouds began to shimmer. The gentle colors of the Aurora Borealis that would normally not have any chance of having visibility through such a storm had begun to come through, and washed the clearing in an almost ethereal glow. The green and blue tint went unnoticed by the only occupant of the clearing however.

She rose to her feet and turned back to her tracks. The volume of her father’s voice telling her that he was only a moment away from breaking the treeline. In response she started to move back the way she came. But before she made it more than a few steps, a sudden and almost blinding white shone in front of her.

Without any time to react, her momentum carried her into the light. The shine silently disappearing with an almost unnoticeable pulse of the Aurora’s glow after she slipped into it. And a split second later, her father burst into the clearing, his loud call echoing into the night with the fading of the Aurora’s glow.

**Author's Note:**

> If you think a tag should be added or of a chapter title, let me know. I'm not the greatest at thinking of tags or chapter titles. I will credit you for the chapter title if i use it.
> 
> Thanks to my beta reader [Kitkatthetastysnack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitkatthetastysnack/profile).


End file.
